Reading and writing rest on a set of underlying capacities that shape how a learner engages with any literacy task. These are the enabling skills, and they are learned in the doing, through practices — not before them or apart from them. A beginning reader working on a simple narrative or procedural text may need a good deal of instructional attention on decoding, vocabulary or sentence structure: the enabling skills are in the foreground because the practice can't yet carry itself without them. As those skills strengthen they ask for less direct attention, and the emphasis shifts to the practices themselves.
The grids for each enabling skill are gathered in the document embedded below. Underneath all of them is oral language and reasoning — the thinking and language that reading and writing draw on, and that for many adult learners runs well ahead of anything reaching the page. The document starts there, then works through:
decoding and fluency
word usage and vocabulary
spelling, capitalization and punctuation
sentence structure and grammar
digital literacy.
These skills aren't tied to any single practice type — they surface across all seven practices, in different configurations and at different levels of demand. A learner draws on decoding whether they read a procedural text, a narrative, an institutional document or a test, and on vocabulary across field-specific, creative and institutional practices alike. Every learner brings an uneven profile across these areas — strong oral vocabulary and limited decoding, say, or fluent reading and emerging writing conventions — and that pattern across skills tells you more than any single area does on its own.
Of everything in this guidebook, the skill grids in this document are the most easily misused. A grid looks measurable in a way practices never do. That legibility is the danger: because these skills seem countable, they get counted — treated as a scale to move a learner along, a thing to report.
But progress on a grid is not progress in practice. A learner can shift along every continuum in the document and still not do the thing they came to a program to do — pass the test, read the form, put their experience into words. These skills enable that work; they are not that work, and they are not its measure. Worse, a grid used to track progress quietly relocates literacy inside the learner, as a ladder of deficits to climb — the oldest and most damaging frame in this field, and the one this whole guidebook works against.
So read each grid in the document as a lens for observation, not a developmental path. It shows what a skill looks like at different points along a continuum, but skills aren't learned by moving from one cell to the next — they develop through meaningful, embedded practice, in reading and writing that matters to the learner. Use the grids to look closely and plan the next move, not to score.
Enabling skills are the capacities a learner brings to any literacy encounter. Practice demands are what each practice type requires — the ways of reading, writing and thinking that procedural texts call for differ from what narrative, institutional or field-specific practices demand. A learner develops both at once, and neither comes first: enabling skills grow through engagement with practice, and practice becomes more accessible as those skills develop.
This is the distinction that makes the document useful for planning. When you see a learner struggling, the question is whether the gap is in an enabling skill or a practice demand, and the answer shapes the instruction. The document below helps you see the first; the practice type pages describe the second. Used well, it's a tool for observing and recording what you notice for an individual learner — a working picture of where they are, so instruction can meet them there. A planning tool, nothing more.